Never Wanted To Leave
by blackhawkcawcaw
Summary: The dead have fallen, and by some cruelly twisted miracle, they were alive. Reality sets in for Jaime as he is torn, with the Great War won, but another still yet more fearsome threat on the horizon. After all that has transpired, all that they have witnessed, they seek refuge in each others company. They never wanted to leave. JxB, 8x03 spoilers. Post-Battle. First GOT fic...
1. Chapter 1

Mud, sweat, blood, salt. That was all Brienne could smell, taste, or breathe. The strangled shrieks of the wights drowned her, pushed her against the castle wall, and soon she lost sight of everything around her. The first three senses were familiar to her, but the salt. Was that the salt of her own tears?

She pushes and cuts them down, in a never-ending relentless battle with her mind. She begins to tire, and for the first time in a long time she begins to lose hope, wanting darkness to consume her instead of this living hell.

_Nobody is coming to save us. _

That was all her exhausted mind could salvage as her breathing became more shallow and the dead surrounded her as if death itself were swallowing the three of them against the cold hard stone. _She couldn't give up._ No matter how much she wanted to in that moment. No matter how hard her body screamed at her to stop. She glanced beside her, panicked and shallow in breath to see Jaime. As if a reflex his green eyes locked with hers, a sapphire blue, and for a brief moment it was as if the screams around them muffled and died out and the chaos surrounding them disappeared. She could in his eyes, the words written clear as day itself.

_I cannot hold up for much longer._

A wordless and brief conversation, but one that made her heart ache, and before she knew it she let out a brief sob, lamenting at the cruelty of the world. This was also unjust. They were staring death in the face, but in that moment it wasn't her life she cried for, but the stubborn gold-headed bastard fighting with her twin sword. She wasn't sure what possessed her sudden rage, unable to pinpoint exactly _why _she felt it was his life she must protect. But she realized that the entire battle, her reflex was to run to him, to protect and serve him. Just as he had done, as he promised. To serve under her command.

"_In the name of the warrior, I charge you to be brave_" his words rang in her head, like a chime, a sudden clarity in the utter chaos.

_Be brave, Brienne, you stupid fool. _

_Do it for the Starks, for Lady Catelyn. For the seven bloody kingdoms, whose life you owed as soon as you knelt and vowed to protect the realm. Do it for Ser Jaime Lannister._

They kept at it, a rhythm of strike and cut, and all orientations around Jaime were beginning to fade as he came face to face with death personified. To his right he heard Brienne let out the most ungodly scream, one he had never heard from the beast of a woman. He almost stopped to behold the sight of her. Tragic, strong, brave… _beautiful_ Brienne. Tears ran tracks down her face, tracing like rivers which cleared away mud and blood from her cheeks. She continued to push and strike the dead down, pushed by something that in Jaime's eyes possessed the power of the seven. _Even in this light she was a beauty._

Then, as if her ungodly scream itself caused a change in the wind, the clawing ceased. Around them the dead dropped like rain. One by one. Podrick, Jaime and Brienne looked around in bewilderment, as if the dead had already taken them and this was some sick cruel joke. It was over. Their eyes locked, a wild expression found on the man's face. He looked every part the brave knight in that moment. Bruised, battered, bloodied, but handsome. It frustrated her so that even in a time like this he was still bloody handsome. As little as she ever dared to admit to herself, she knew deep down, and in her vulnerable state her deepest thoughts were threatening to bubble over.

Brienne could hardly breathe, and the only rational thing her body would let her do was collapse against the wall, her body slumped on top of the mountain of many she had slain. _Wights, Dothraki, Karstarks, Mormonts._ She lost count. She knew those faces.Her comrades, so cruelly slain and risen again.

She dropped Oathkeeper as if it stung, and the adrenaline began to cease and her heart thrummed strongly against her armour. Her mind focused on her hands as she held them out in front of her, shaking so terribly, covered in god knows what. _They'd won. _She could hardly believe it. _How have they won? How am I alive?_

Snapped out of her reverie, she focused her attention on the two men beside her, still standing holding their swords as if it were a trick on their minds and those bodies would rise once again. In her nightmares, those dead bodies silently rising will haunt her for a millennia. That she is sure of.

Podrick gasped out a large breath of air, as if a small laugh escaped him, looking around wildly, just as shocked as the rest of them in the courtyard, hearts still beating by some unexplainable odds. Jaime Lannister beside him stared with a haunted look in his eyes, seeing the utter carnage before him. _He didn't know death before this day. Not in it's true, raw, and terrifying form. _

After some time – _ten minutes, ten seconds, maybe an hour _– of staying rooted to the one spot, waiting with baited breath for _something _to happen, the lady knight slowly rose from her position, picked up her sword, and wordlessly limped down and away. Jaime, beside Podrick, looked as if he meant to call out to her but wouldn't, his golden hand extended out as if clasping onto her shadow. His throat burned and his eyes stung from the smoke. He wanted to run after her, to shake her from her induced and haunted reverie, hold her close to him because he still could not believe they were both alive. He was clinging on to the thought of her, with a degree of desperation, rejoicing in the simple fact.

_They were alive. _

But her name died on his cracked lips. He didn't know why but he knew the woman was needed elsewhere. Now that this was over, he was no longer needed in her charge. And that thought terrified him.

_Where to from here?_


	2. Chapter 2

They all gathered in the courtyard, the sun by some miracle breaking through the thick storm clouds and heavy smoke blanketing Winterfell. A cast of gold over massacred land. Brienne's body moved her automatically, searching amongst the many dead for the Starks. When she saw Lady Sansa gingerly walk her way out of the crypt, a shell-shocked expression written on her porcelain features, Brienne drew out a ragged breath she hadn't realized she had been holding.

"Lady Sansa" was all Brienne could manage as she clamored her way through the wreckage, but still managing to stand tall and proud despite her bloodied and bruised appearance. Sansa looked up, a ghost of a smile on her face, but with sad, haunted eyes.

"Lad-… well, Ser Brienne now, I suppose" she spoke, quickly glancing beside her to Tyrion Lannister, who managed a small nod in Brienne's direction. Sansa's voice was frail but with it the same steely demeanor. _Every bit Lady Catelyn's blood._ _Not the summer child she once was in King's Landing. _

The two women took in each other, glassy-eyed, simply relieved but so incredibly sad of the sight that was held before them. Tyrion observed the Knight in front of him, a peculiar sight indeed. He then remembered Jaime. Tyrion spoke, breaking the spell between them. "My brother?". His tone was hesitant, almost as if him asking would bring a terrible truth. _She was with him on the ground. He vowed to serve alongside her. Tyrion had managed to get it out of his brother whilst sharing a cup of dogshit wine._

_x_

"Dearest brother" Tyrion started, taking a massive gulp of his wine. Jaime sighed and knew a conversation were to come up that Jaime wouldn't enjoy. He could tell by Tyrion's tone. "It struck me dumb today how often your eyes were glued to a certain tall, blonde-haired woman".

_Here we go, indeed._

Tyrion paused before continuing. "You never told me what happened to your hand all those years ago, you know. Indeed it was only today when she declared in front of _Queen Daenerys_ herself that you _saved_ her and your life was worth holding onto. The men were forcing themselves onto her, a woman you _barely_ knew, and you saved her" Tyrion declared, a quizzical look on his face, but not in any manner that could be accusatory, more amusement, Jaime thought. "A curious thing indeed for the _proud Kingslayer_ to do. Defending the honor of his _captor_, who was serving the _enemy _of House Lannister".

There was truth in his words, and Jaime simply didn't have an answer to his ponderings. In fact, he asked himself most days why- before he really knew the woman- why he did prevent Locke's men from having her. Of course, now it was a different story. He would give his own worthless life to stop that from happening to – _well what was she to him... A friend? _The title didn't seem to fit.

But no, he didn't have an answer for his smartass brother, who Jaime knew had an agenda with this conversation, as he always does, and he waited for it to come.

"You've never once mentioned her to me really, even when I asked as if she were your precious secret".

Jaime managed a small huff of a laugh, looking up from his cup to Tyrion, who was studying him with his large eyes. "It's a long story I'm afraid little brother, one that would take time. If anything time is not on our side at this very moment".

He was trying to avoid the subject. Again, like Cersei were still here and uttering Brienne's name would summon their dear sister. Tyrion was a smart man. He never brought the woman up in King's Landing, for the simple fact of Cersei._ He was trying to protect Brienne from Cersei. _

It all clicked then and there for Tyrion. He thought he knew what his brother was like, as a man in love. Lovesick, and weak, bending to his sisters every command. But no – this was something else entirely. The poor fool probably had no idea either. _He never was the smartest Lannister after all. _

"That's bullshit and you know it" Tyrion chuckled, looking at the crackling fire before him dying down, so decided to stand and stoke the flames some more. He inevitably decided to drop the conversation altogether when his brother was rendered speechless, clearly deep in thought.

"She's a good fighter" Jaime whispered, breaking the deathly silence that blanketed the hall for some time. "And yet still an ever better woman".

_His brother was singing praises of another woman? The world truly was ending, _mused Tyrion, thinking Jaime wanted to drop the conversation. Tyrion didn't want to break the spell, to interrupt Jaime's thoughts with some witty comeback.

"I pledged to fight alongside her when the time comes," he said, rising in his seat just slightly. Waiting for his brother to judge him, mock him, or tease him all he liked. _I'm probably wasn't going to see the night through anyway, _thought Jaime._ What harm can my little brother do now?_

"Did you now?" Tyrion replied, amusement written all over his scarred face.

"I did" spoke Jaime, with a finality in his tone, seemingly satisfied and calm, despite it all.

"Well, I'm happy for you". Jaime scoffed in response, unsure just what his brother was implying, but not asking any questions. With that, the conversation was dropped, and the two golden-haired men turned back to the fire, sipping on their wine, pondering their imminent death.

x

_She must know what has happened to his brother. He said he was to fight alongside her on the left flank._

Brienne turned to him and immediately replied: "Ser Jaime is alive".

Her saying those words brought up a lump in her throat, finally able to accept that he was indeed still alive. Tyrion sucked in a breath, and nodded, before turning to Lady Sansa and squeezing her hand. Tyrion and Sansa's eyes met in a brief but weighted moment, with words written on their faces that words could not convey. _What happened down there? _Brienne wished to ask, but before she could, Tyrion walked off in search of the others.

"It's a peculiar thing" Sansa whispered, Brienne uncertain if it were her that she was addressing, or simply the wind, the ghosts around them. "We've won. The night king has fallen, the dead are gone. But with it, he took all those with him, so I cannot help but feel we've lost and he still won because we're left with _this_".

The words rang true for Brienne, unsure just how much the lady bared witness, but knew _something_ must've happened down there to make her speak such things. Like always, Brienne could never seem to find the right words at the right time, to comfort Sansa. But she felt selfish because she could not bring herself to care for comforting others, for speaking wise words or looking forward. Her whole mind was a whirlwind and she could not think. So she did the only rational thing she could do in that moment.

"I better go, get to work, find the others". Lady Sansa looked up, a terrified look on her face knowing who she was referring to. Her brothers and sister. Sansa nodded, standing rooted to her spot, watching Ser Brienne walk away, unsure what to do with herself for the first time in a long time.

x

Some hours had passed, yet feeling like days, and Ser Jaime left himself with the strenuous task of compiling the bodies, getting the men around him to haul them onto carts. "M'lord" Podrick spoke from behind him, causing Jaime to stop and turn around. "Your brother has been asking after you".

"Tell him I'm busy" he muttered, wanting to deal with the task at hand. Podrick watched with sad eyes at the man before him, with one good hand hauling the dead into piles outside the gates as Jon Snow had instructed. Evening was upon them and Jaime hadn't stopped to rest, or even think, not once. He set to work as Podrick expected he might.

Ser Brienne was doing precisely the same thing, outside the broken gates, making the young squire concerned. He goaded her to rest and eat something but the stubborn knight barked – _as expected_ \- that she was occupied and couldn't stop. He knew she didn't mean to bite at him, he understood her well enough to know she needed to be left alone and do something useful. That was the way they both worked. Their faces were both still marked by the blood of the dead, and by their own blood.

He focused back on the broken man in front of him, the past day's wounds and bruises catching up to him, from what Podrick could tell by his demeanor. "I'm afraid he insisted and instructed me that if you were to refuse to drag you by your heels". Jaime looked behind him once again, exasperated with the young squire. He saw Podrick's kind eyes smiling back at him. "Come, m'lord, you need to rest, even for a moment. There's food in the hall".

"_I insist _that I'm quite alright and you can tell my brother that" he bit back, carrying on once again. He paused and looked up before saying. "I'll be in later, I just -…" his words caught in his throat, a stinging in his eyes stopping him. The man looked as if he were about to cry. Podrick then understood. Seeing Jaime like this was more terrifying still. He nodded silently, and left the man to it.

The men around him insisted on a break, and before he knew it he was the last man left in the courtyard, still piling the bodies, another and another. Darkness crept up once again, Jaime musing how short the days were to the north. _Weak Northern fools,_ his brain would've once conjured. _There's no rest for the dead. There's still work to do. _But he was too weakened to be angry at them.

He heard footsteps, and instinctively knew who those heavy pair belonged to. _By the gods, she could never sneak around anywhere, couldn't be graceful in her steps if her life depended on it. _She didn't appear to have seen him, instead, walking in the shadows, almost avoiding the carnage before her, and ducking straight for the great hall. She looked every bit as steely and determined as she had before the battle. When she was knighted. He had sworn to have beheld beautiful sights before. The beaches of King's Landing, the blue sapphire waters, _his sister with her long Lannsiter locks, she with the crown bestowed upon her pretty head_.

But no – he had not seen a sight more beautiful than Lady – Ser Brienne of Tarth, rising from her knelt position, looking the man in the eyes as if he had bestowed upon her the moon and stars itself. _So tall, proud and strong, like he had never seen her. Glassy-eyed and beaming as if the sun shone into the dark hall. By the gods, she had a beautiful smile. He'd never seen the woman smile before. That was what she suddenly was to him, simply a woman in want of recognition, of love. Who would've thought Brienne of fucking Tarth would be beautiful._

_He really was a fool after all._ _Follow her._ _Go to her._

"Well brother, if you bloody well insist" he grovelled, dropping the large plank he was attempting to haul, and silently following behind the lady knight into the great hall.

* * *

Thank you for the reviews, so far! I am still not over episode 8.02 so had to touch on a little bit of that before moving forward. Would love feedback, much appreciated. I'm a little bogged down by Uni at the moment, so will try upload when possible! Of course, since new episodes come out every week I'll try my best to follow this story but no divert from canon too much. I just love these characters so much it hurts.

Until next time!


	3. Chapter 3

When Jaime arrived in the great hall in search of Brienne he stopped in his tracks and beheld the sight before him. Many a man and woman, some cleaned from their mud and wounds, others, _like himself_, still left with marks of the dead, eating silently, or muttering to the man beside them. In the distant end of the hall he could hear the cries of the injured, tended to by the likes of Lady Sansa, who he observed, was trembling but applying bandage after bandage, salve after salve, to those who needed it. _Her people._ He knew Lady Catelyn would've swelled with pride had she lived to see the woman her daughter had become. _Maybe even Ned Stark himself._

Even more still was their other daughter, a polar opposite, the cold and calculated steel to Sansa's warmer demeanour. He heard the rumours almost immediately after it all went down.

_The younger Stark saved them all. Struck her Valyrian steel dagger into the heart of the Night King. _

None but the youngest Stark bared witness, a boy that unsettled Jaime. A ghost of his past and all his wrongdoings.

When he heard the other men whispering of such things, about how they did in the end win, he couldn't even find it in himself to rejoice, laugh, or speak about the Stark girl. His whole body was numb. Simply struck dumb by what had transpired.

He was broken out of his thoughts, standing mutely in the middle of the hall, a light hand on his arm breaking the spell. Podrick's kind eyes met his and the boy - _more of a man really_ – spoke "Come Ser. There's a seat here", and the knight simply nodded numbly, handed a bowl of stew by the squire. He looked up to their table, meeting for the first time since the dawn the lady knight herself, still covered in mud and blood. _I hope to the gods that's not her own blood marring her face._ Her eyes, still so shockingly blue, met his and she said nothing. Looked back down to her stew and carried on eating silently, with the great beast of a man to her right – _what was his name?_ All Jaime could catch was that bloody name he gave himself… Giantsbane?. The wildling ate with great fervour, hungry eyes on Brienne the entire time, and she squirmed a little further away in her seat, catching his stare like it were a flame near her face.

Jaime wasn't a fool and neither was Brienne. The man was utterly besotted, and that amusing tale of how he earned his name kept Jaime chuckling for much of the night before. He wasn't sure why he found it funny. At first, Jaime would admit to himself, he was a little threatened by the sheer aggressiveness in the wildlings advances, but as soon as he glanced to Brienne's face he couldn't help but relax. She couldn't possibly take a man like him seriously. This was Brienne. She had no interest in such things. Peculiar that it made him relieved. _He shouldn't care what the wench does in her spare time._ _She's a free woman._

They all ate in relative silence, none knowing what exactly to say in that moment in time. Yes, they'd had the day to process it all. But the wildling out of all seemed the least bit bothered. _I suppose he knew what was upon them. A real man of the North._

"You fought better than the rest of those soft little boys from the South combined" The man – _ah yes, Tormund was his name – _declared, ogling at Brienne, _so_ clearly addressing the lady.

Brienne looked up and a hardened expression on her face appeared, perhaps a little offended by what he was saying, clearly missing the compliment the man was paying her. _She never seemed to see when a man was praising her. Always seen as a jape. _"Most of those men who fought were Northern bannermen, and they bravely gave their lives".

An uncomfortable silence passed over and Tormund for a small second looked slightly ashamed, much to Brienne's dismay. She stuttered then, clearly seeing her words were a little too harsh, considering the day that had just transpired. She could see that the man used his humour to help him. He was simply passing her another compliment.

"Forgive me, Ser" Tormund replied, looking down to his food. "I'm not good with words at a time like this". It was alarming seeing the man this way for Brienne. He was always so confident, and never seemed to mind her rebuffs. It wasn't as if this were a game to her. She hated games. More that he wasn't getting the message every other time, or he refused to give up, and now the thought of her truly harming his feelings left her feeling quite sorry for herself.

Jaime watched with keen eyes at the interaction in front of him, Brienne's face appearing with a splotchy red that only he appeared to notice underneath her bloodied face.

He continued "I didn't mean to disrespect the dead… It was just seeing you out there slaying those dead men, you looked every bit a Knight. You fought with the strength of ten men on your back". Her blush deepened, and this time one that made Jaime's stomach drop, and for the wrong reasons. She was embarrassed this time, not angry, spluttering over words like some flustered young maid.

"I- … Thank you" she managed, now looking him in the eye, with a small upturn of her lip, as much of a smile as she could manage in that moment. They nodded, a mutual respect transpiring, as if she spoke back "You fought well too". Tormund would take what he could get, and before others knew the moment began he rose from his seat, and sauntered away, but of course not before passing her the most unsubtle of winks and wriggle of the eyebrows. Brienne turned back down to her food, ashamed, abashed and embarrassed by the interaction.

They ate in relative silence, the awkwardness still hung over the group of them, broken by Ser Davos, obviously trying to diffuse the tension. The Kingslayer's eyes were following Tormund's retreating form, staring daggers in a very unsubtle manner. It didn't it go unnoticed by Davos, Sandor Clegane nor Podrick opposite him.

"Well then" he began. "The lot of you reek. I'll get the servants to draw bath's". Brienne began to protest but was hushed "I won't hear another word Ser Brienne. You haven't stopped since dawn. Nor _you_ for that matter" The man's finger pointed accusingly at Jaime, who turned his eyes away from Tormund and glanced back in annoyance. "Can barely eat my food with that bloody stench".

Jaime huffed with a small laugh, relenting. "Can't argue with that". His voice, Brienne noticed, was gravelly and battered. He looked as if he had aged in such a small space of time. Flecks of grey in his beard, and in his darkened hair. _Less of a Lannister gold. More brown, like soil. She'd never seen him look any less like the proud Lannister lion. His sister would turn her nose up at the sight of him, _Brienne mused.

_His sister. _Not many things terrified Brienne. The dead, and the storm it brings with it, yes. Her father, vulnerable and alone in Tarth. The Stark girls in any threat of danger.

But the thought of Cersei struck something colder in her still. She met the woman. A cold, calculated woman, with an agenda written on her pretty face.

_Ser Jaime has served his purpose here. He is done, and there's nothing else for him here. He will do what he has always done. Serve his house with honour, what is left of it. Would he leave?_

Brienne imagined if Queen Daenerys had anything to say Ser Jaime would've been turned to ash and dust by one of her dragons by now. The thought sent a chill down her spine. She couldn't think about it for another second.

"How fares Arya?" Brienne asked Ser Davos, dropping the titles and pretences because she knew the girl well. She was of the same breed as herself. A fighter through and through, stuck inside a woman's body. Jaime's gaze softened on hers. _She cared so for the Stark girls, even after all this time._ _She never broke her oath to Lady Catelyn, no matter what transpired. _

Ser Davos had been with Lord Snow, amongst the others all morning, in meetings. Davos turned to her, and smiled. "Well, normally I would expect the likes of her to be a little shaken by the entire thing. I'm sure any man would. She _did _kill the Night King after all… But no, she seemed calm. Almost as if she was certain it was what she needed to do".

Brienne managed a small smile "Sounds like her". She sounded almost _proud_. She stole a glance towards Jaime, for the first time since he joined their table. All he could do was smile back, alarming Brienne. _What in the seven hells has gotten into this man? Ever since he got here he has been nothing but nice. Not japing, not biting back at her temper_. It alarmed her even more. _Was this some kind of joke? _Even having it all established that he came to serve and fight for the living, his answer to her previous question still didn't seem to satisfy.

x

"_What are you doing?" Brienne swivelled at him accusingly. _

"_What?" Jaime replied, bewildered by such a sudden question._

"_I think you know"._

"_I _truly_ don't". He wasn't teasing her about this either. He was just as confused as she clearly was_.

"_We have _never_ had a conversation last this long without you insulting me. Not once"._

_Jaime was now even more confused. "You want me to insult you?"._

"_No!"_

"_Good" he bit back. He wasn't sure why he put it like that. He always quite enjoyed getting under her skin. But now wasn't the time. Why couldn't she see this wasn't a joke to him? How did she not see that _she_ wasn't a joke to him?_

_After some silence past, except this time not comfortable as it usually may be, Jaime looked up and studied her. _Oh, _he thought, _She really doesn't believe me. _With that established he tried to find the words to make her understand. But the real trouble of it all was that Jaime himself had no idea what to say. Why did he come back after all? Struggling to form words he started with "I came back to Winterfell because - …"._

Oh shit, why did I bloody come to Winterfell after all.

_He was more flustered now, especially with her studying him with baited breath with those astonishing and severe eyes of hers. _

Why did you come to Winterfell? _He had to be honest. Had it not been for her words in the Dragonpit some weeks before, Jaime never would've dared to leave. "Fuck loyalty" were here words. _Such an odd and poignant thing for arguably the most honourable and loyal woman in the whole Seven bloody Kingdoms to say._ But she was right, this was far more than houses, and oaths and honour. This was about life and death. But she heard him that very morning speak those same sentiments, and yet she still wasn't satisfied. To tell her a truth he did not even know himself? That he came to Winterfell for her?_

No that wouldn't do. It would terrify her.

_After some time, he managed something he thought would play more for her ears than _"I came because I can't let you fight and potentially die without me trying my best to fight and protect alongside you".

"_I'm not the fighter I used to be". She looked confused. "But I'd be honoured to serve under your command… if you'll have me". _

x

Brienne was still confused, even after all that he proved to her. He fought alongside her. Saved her skin more than once. _But why?_

Suddenly, as if burnt by something, Brienne stood up, with her stew unfinished, and muttered an excuse before departing. It all happened so suddenly that it left Jaime perplexed. _Had he said something to offend the lady knight? _

By some reflex, Jaime rose almost immediately after, _like some lovesick fool_, and began following her retreating form down the corridor, stew left untouched. The group left at the table was bemused by what took place, a little perplexed even.

"Oh for fuck's sake. Is somebody going to tell the two of them to just get it over with and fuck?" piped up the Hound, an ever-present anger in his tone.

A paused of silence and then a slow bubble of laughter arose in Ser Davos, seeming to find it hilarious, and the laughter began to ripple amongst the men around them. They were relieved that somebody else could smile at such a time, and joined along with him, like it was infectious. It wasn't even what the Hound said that made some of the men around them laugh as they mused over their stew. It was more the_ relief_ that they could laugh.

They were _happy_ to have something to laugh over, breaking the god-awful blanket of despair which held all the survivors as hostage.

* * *

Thank you once again for the lovely reviews, it really keeps me fuelled. So glad some of you are liking the way I'm portraying Jaime and Brienne especially. It honestly means a lot considering how much I love these complex and amazing characters. Please keep the feedback coming. Assignments are a little heavy but will try my best to update in the next few days. Thanks again guys!


	4. Chapter 4

Brienne made her way briskly to her chambers, a modest sized room, disturbingly untouched. Hard to believe the carnage outside when a sight so untouched as this stood within Winterfell's very walls. Her bed was made, and bath in the centre beginning to be drawn by a young girl. Her sudden ungraceful entrance startled the girl, a Northerner, who could not have been more than 12 years of age.

"Oh! Excuse me, m'l-… Ser" she stammered, standing up briskly, abashed. Her face was bright red on her pale but pretty complexion.

"No, my apologies. I startled you…" Brienne apologised, setting down her sword which she had not parted with all day. Keeping it held to her as habit, having to convince herself she was safe.

"The name's Alys". _That was the name of the Karstark girl_. Brienne had seen her body being dragged from the Godswood. A blank snow white face with the same striking red hair of Sansa. Brienne involuntarily shivered.

"Thank you, Alys".

"S'alright, Ser" she grinned, carrying a pot of hot water from the fire and pouring into the tub. The girl had a kind face, but with eyes of grey steel. "So it is true, yer the Knight".

"Oh… well, a very recent title" Brienne replied, a little unsure how to respond.

"I had heard rumours in the kitchen today. When I first saw yer, I thought yer were a knight" Alys responded, getting up from her crouched position. "Is there anything else you'll be needin'?".

"Ah, no, thank you" Brienne muttered, a little distracted, but giving as much of a smile as she could manage. The girl curtseyed and left, the door a little ajar.

Brienne staunched over to the door, bringing the weight of her body against it to close. She sighed, shaking, but nimbly trying to unstrap her armour which held her prisoner. Her hands, stiff and cold, struggled, despite all the years she had brandished the armour. A striking dark blue that could not be seen in this light, caked in soil and blood. It had been weighing her down for most of the day but she could not bring herself to remove it until now. Her muscles were screaming, her legs shaking at her to collapse. _This task would've been easier with Podrick._

She managed, hands still violently shaking, to unbuckle the straps. She flinched as she drew her underclothes over her head, a sharp sting burning above her right breast. She looked down, seeing blood leak from a cut, almost like a hand clawed across her chest. _It looked much like the scar left from the bear. _

Her inhibitions were so numbed she barely recalled much else as she gingerly sank her body into the tub, not caring if the water was scalding her skin. She let herself close her eyes, trying to shut out the visions that danced in front of her;_ falling bodies from rooftops, a dragon firing ice, young Lyanna Mormont's mangled body lying on the ground, cold blank eyes staring back at her, the strangled cries of the men at her back as their throats were ripped out._

x

Jaime, slower than he was used to, struggled to keep up and soon he was lost, a maze of stone corridors, trying desperately to follow Brienne. _By the gods, why am I following after her like some lost pup?_

He knew he must've looked pathetic, and frankly he would've laughed at himself too. But now was not the time. He didn't really know _why _he wanted to see her, only that sitting any longer with anybody else seemed torture, particularly when he knew after all this he still wasn't a popular man. All he knew was that he _needed_ to see her, really see her.

"Kingslayer" he heard from behind him, an unfamiliar voice. He turned. Arya Stark, the girl – _well more woman_\- herself. "Sorry – force of habit" she apologised, although didn't sound the least bit sorry, a small smirk dancing in her large eyes. Jaime stuttered, almost a little caught off guard, since his current agenda did not involve talking with possibly the most deadly woman in all of Westeros, _considering she killed the bloody Night King and saved all of their asses. _But she looked invested in talking to him for some reason.

He studied her, noticing how fluid her strides were, quiet as a mouse. He began to see how she got past all of those White Walkers in the godswood in the first place. He had never spoken with the girl. He had seen her once in a fleeting moment when he first visited Winterfell, all those years ago. A completely transformed woman from the keen-eyed girl he glanced past. But he was every bit a changed man too, so to speak.

"Lady Arya" he bowed, knowing fully well she did not prefer the title but his stubborn ass had to bite back at her intentional greeting _somehow_. A beat of silence passed, and when she did not speak he felt it his place to carry on. "I believe Westeros owes you a great debt".

"One I'm sure the Lannister's would be all too willing to pay. 'A Lannister Always Pays Their Debts', is that how the motto goes?... Oh, forgive me, I never cared to listen to Sceptor Mordane's dull drones during needlework lessons. 'Hear Me Roar', that's it right?" Arya mused, a slight prickle in her tone which set Ser Jaime on edge. It was hard to know what the girl wanted. All the while she thought out loud she slowly stepped closer and closer until they were no less than a metre apart.

He knew she wasn't looking for an answer there, so she carried on. Something then switched in her demeanour, a softening so to speak. "I believe I owe you one too" she said with a lower voice. A debt, he clicked, was what she was referring to. "If it weren't for you my sister would not have had the protection she needed when she first arrived back in the North".

"You misunderstand. It was not my doing that led Brienne to your sister, I only armed and armoured her so she could fulfil your mothers oath. I had not part to play in her staying for so long" he replied quickly, forgetting until he said it that maybe bringing up Arya's late mother wasn't the wisest of moves. _The Lannisters send their regards. By the gods, their history was so fucked up._

He saw her bristle for a short second, hitting a nerve at the mention of Lady Catelyn. A slight glimmer in her eyes, of what looked like tears, but it was gone almost as soon as it began. It made Jaime realize for the first time since seeing her that she was a girl of no more than 18, who had lived through the worst of it yet against all odds came out on top. He understood why Brienne admired the girl so.

He knew he wasn't a Lannister now, where it counted. As much as he would protect his family, the ones he loved, he would never wish on anybody the atrocities her mother, brother, a sister-in-law endured. All of his life he wished to please his father, a real Lion. Would protect to his dying breath the legacy of his house. But never could he have had the backbone to execute was his dear father and sister have conjured.

"It's curious. A _Lannister_ arming a soldier to protect his sworn enemy". He was walking on thin ice and he could feel it. "Why did you wish to fulfil the oath, even after all that happened?". He knew he could be nothing but honest to Arya. She would see right through him otherwise.

"Initially… it was to save my own skin. Seemed simple enough. A trade-off; my safe return to King's Landing, to my family, for the safe return of the two Stark daughters to theirs, who, at the time, I had assumed to be tucked neatly within the walls of King's Landing" he began tentatively. "But once… I - … I couldn't let what happened to your family -… even at the hands of my own…" he stopped. He wasn't getting his point across in the deft way he had planned. "Lady Catelyn was an honourable woman. Although I couldn't do a thing about what happened, couldn't stop what had already transpired… I could at least try to undo some of my House's wrongs". He couldn't hide a thing from Arya, and she knew it. She was startled by the glisten in his eye. He couldn't act that out.

He wouldn't even meet her eye and she actually felt a strange sense of pity for the man, despite it all. Maybe what had transpired had made her realize what was important and what could be left in the past. She knew what happened to her brother, to the sister she never met, their unborn child, and her mother… it was not by the swift hand of _this_ man.

"Thank you" she whispered, startling Jaime. Silence. He looked up and from that small glance he could see a look in her eye. An understanding. He let out a shaky sigh of relief.

"I… I have something which I think you should have" Jaime suggested hesitantly. She looked down to see him unstrapping his sword, a hilt with bright red stone – Lannister red – and the sigil of House Baratheon. The Kingslayer unsheathed it and lay it out before him, balancing with his hand. A wooden hand, she suddenly realised. She'd heard mutterings when she walked in the halls the previous day of the Kingslayer's arrival, and the story of how he lost his good hand. If she was honest, it was that story which compelled Arya to approach him in the first place, uncertain of what to make of her supposed sworn enemy when she heard Brienne vouch for him.

"Valyrian steel" she noted, but not reaching out to take it. The girl almost seemed unimpressed. "I've already got one of my own" and in a heartbeat she whipped out a small dagger of her own. _A beautiful craftmanship, _Jaime observed.

"Forgive me… it's just simply by _right_ this sword belongs to your family". Arya drew her dagger back into its sheath deftly, and looked up, a question in her eyes.

"This sword – Widow's Wail – a fucking awful name really, was a wedding gift from my father to Joffrey". Jaime forgets for some time that Joffrey was his blood. _His son._

_He really was a cunt._ Olenna Tyrell's ghost whispered in his brain.

"I met your father once". This perplexed Jaime.

"He made no mention of you".

She grinned, satisfied, reminiscing of another time. "No he would not have. He had no idea it was me. Think of it. The most valuable hostage to the war against the Starks right under his nose, and he never had a clue". Jaime had to laugh, even only slightly. It didn't matter now anyway. "Was his cupbearer in Harrenhal. He mentioned youmore than once. Said you struggled to read for a time".

Jaime's demeanour softened, for some unknown reason. He got lost off his train of thought and thought to bring the topic back on track before he lost his way.

"This sword…It was re-forged from your father's sword, Ice… it's twin is _Oathkeeper_. Brienne wields it. It was mine once, but I gave it to her so she could find and protect Ned Stark's daughters with Ned Starks sword. _Poetic, really_". At this point Arya hesitantly took hold of the sword. Finely balanced and almost half the weight of her father's sword. _A lot lighter._ She was so little at the time when she held her father sword when he wasn't looking, so she supposed Ice was a grander sword since her arms were so weak. Jaime studied the girl, so mesmerised by the sword and continued. "This was gifted to me, but it was never within my rights to wield it".

"No" Arya spoke, after some silence, startling Jaime. She handed him back the sword, a distant look in her eyes. "Perhaps it wasn't within your rights to wield it."

Jaime bristled.

"But as I said… I've already got one of my own. Besides, it would be wrong for me to part one half of my father's sword from the other".

_Oh._

Like the wind suddenly blew through the dark corridor, Arya was gone with it in an instant like she was never there. Jaime was left unsettled and with a lot more questions than answers.

x

Brienne heard a sudden knock at the door, caught in the middle of her bath. Not sleeping, more trying to silence the nightmares playing over and over, more wishing to think of nothing. "Just a minute" she called, startled. She gingerly rose her way out of her bath, and attempted to make herself decent. She grabbed her underclothes, hastily pulling them over and scampered quite ungracefully towards the door. When she swung it open she was caught off guard. She did a double take and before she could think her mouth blurted "Jaime".

_That's the first time she's simply called me Jaime._ It made his heart sing.

"Come in" she managed, a frown knotted across her clean face. His was still covered in grime. _Davos was right, they did reek._ He walked in, without a word, pacing back and forth, standing rigidly tall from his armour he still brandished. He didn't speak like she would've expected the Jaime of old to do, so she took it upon herself to muster _something_, despite her numbed brain. "What are you doing here?".

_Always one for words Brienne,_ she chastised to herself. Although, what could she do when he was studying her so severely, eyes never leaving her face. Why did he often gaze at her so? It was a gaze too strong for her to match.

"I wanted to check up on you" he replied lamely, now standing as if he was unsure what to do with his hands. _What on earth has gotten into the poor man?_

"I'm alright".

"Good".

"You?".

"Yeah".

Jaime nodded, not sure what else to do in that moment, and paced his way over to the fire, left hand tracing the bannister. He was hunched, and from what Brienne could see in some degree of pain, even if he was trying to hide it. She silently walked across the room to him, but carefully, like she were trying to corner a scared cat. She wasn't sure what she was really doing in that moment. _But she couldn't bring herself to care in that moment. She was just so tired she wanted to cry._

She stepped into his space, and for a moment Jaime was entirely unsure what compelled her to come so close. She always kept such a distance from him that the second she was breathing the same air as his he was left breathless, stomach turning. Her hands, he noted, were shaking, despite the heat that radiated from her tall figure. They reached gently to his shoulder, and methodically she began unstrapping his armour. Not a word was spoken but the air hung with many questions.

_What in the gods name am I doing?  
_

_What in the gods name is she doing?_

He let out a shiver, against his control, hoping she didn't catch it. _She probably did notice, curse it all. What on earth has gotten into you? _It was so quiet you could hear blood drop to the cold stone.

He didn't protest as her hands gained some control and unhinged the armour from his body, suddenly dropping to the floor, a weight lifted off his screaming muscles. He stepped out slowly, almost not wishing to break the immense spell they both appeared to be under. _I hope I wasn't the only one who just experienced whatever the fuck that was._

With a finality in her sigh she turned quickly, pacing to the other side of the room, wanting to create as much distance as she could from him. _Probably the smell_, he mused. _Or I've scared her._

A thing that terrified Brienne about Jaime is that she could not hide from him. As much as she would wanted to at the best of times, she simply could not anymore. Their relationship – _whatever in Seven Hells their fucking relationship was_ – was past the point of beating around the bush. It was, ever since she told him to wake up from his spell he'd been under for some time. _Fuck loyalty._ Moving away from his proximity was the wisest thing she could do, considering the state she was in.

"Brienne" he whispered, an agonizing sound to her eyes. "I need to thank you".

"I – er… don't understand what for, Ser Jaime".

_Ah, back to the titles._ Jaime felt as if he had taken two steps backwards. She was putting her walls up again. He thought for a second before he caught a glimpse of the rare woman, agonized, in pain, haunted by what they'd lived through.

He didn't know when he thanked her, why he wanted to thank her. It simply felt like the thing to be said. He attempted to inject a bit of light in his words despite how thick the air seemed with tension. "Well, we'd be here all day if I listed _all_ of the reasons".

A short breath of laughter escaped the woman. _Now that was something he did not expect._ His eyes widened in amusement, almost smiling, but controlled his emotions as he looked up. There was something behind her amusement that seemed simply off. Not herself. _A fragile storm._ As if behind the smile there was a sob wanting to break free. His heart ached at the sight.

"Brienne, I'm serious". He took a step closer, and she matched by taking a step away from him. _Blasted, stubborn wench._ "I wouldn't be standing here if it weren't for you". Her demeanour was unreadable, a swirl of emotions written as plain as day on her pale face.

She really could not take his severe gaze. _So serious. So cutting._ Times like this she much preferred the days when the _only_ look he would point her way was a sneer. But_ this _look-…this look, made her so angry. She knew what he was when he had a sneering joke behind every one of her questions, an upturned lip, a quick cutting comeback.

_Nowadays he looked at her as if she hung the moon. What a fine joke._

Her guard was so high, her shoulders raised as if somebody were about to come out and attack her. She looked terrified,_ exhausted_. "I only did what I would do for anybody else".

She regretted her choice of words as soon as they slipped. She couldn't think straight. Her day was already an utter chaotic mess. She could not process what one word meant from the other. Could not tell you what had transpired in the past 12 hours. Could not even tell you how many men she had to pile on the mountain of bodies._ But their faces, staring up at her blankly, she could remember those, every time she shut her eyes._

_Oh for fucks sake, _Jaime's voice in his mind flared. Now it was his turn to be angry. _Stubborn bloody woman. _Her words cut through him, more than he thought her words ever could. But he brushed it off as quickly as he could, like they were sparring and she simply jabbed him on the shoulder.

"I'm sorry, we don't have to…" he whispered, trying a new approach. Her eyes, glued to the floor, for a moment of weakness shot straight to his, as if an arrow pierced his armour. It sucked the air clean out of him. "I-… I will shut up. For once, I'll shut up. You talk – _or don't_". He tried again, taking a step across the room, and to his utter relief she didn't step back that time. He didn't stop until he was not a metre in front of her, and with a gentle hand, trembling against his will, guided her to rest her weary legs on the bench next to the fire. He gingerly sat down, trying to hide his wince as he crouched to the other end of the bench, ignoring the sharp stinging pain of a gash in his right leg. It wasn't a deep cut. _I'll live._

With each second of silence that passed she began to slowly unravel. She yielded. Exhausted with building up her walls. This was Jaime after all. She trusts this man with her life. She said so in front of a crowd of people, to Queen Daenerys herself. _Why was it so much harder when it was just the two of them? _

He saw her shoulders slouch some more, and with that he knew he had her right where he wanted her to be. He didn't expect for her to say anything. He would take the mere sight of seeing her alive and breathing, heart still beating, as a true miracle.

"I didn't think I would live to see the dawn" she whispered, a broken gravel in her tone. His heart gave another silent pang.

"Nor I". She looked up to study his face, a sadness in her astonishing blue eyes. _I'm glad you're here._ They sat in companionable silence, looking back down to their hands when the others gaze became too much to handle. Against her will, her bottom lip began to tremble, and she sucked in a large breath of air, trying to supress the raw emotion. Much to her dismay Jaime heard. _It was too bloody quiet._

He immediately reached across and took her right hand in his left. He'd never dared to hold her hand before. He always thought the action would scare her away. But he didn't see the Brienne he was so used to seeing in this moment in time. He wanted to try something new._ Be a friend to her. Soothe her as if she were a new-born cub. _Quite frankly, he'd never been in this position before. He never had this with Cersei. She was always so hardened, rebuking his every attempt to get a glance inside her raw emotion. Bristled whenever he attempted to soothe her.

He wasn't sure which was a more painful truth; knowing Cersei arguably never gave him the love he so willingly served her,_ or _not knowing how to stop Brienne from feeling so anguished. _He felt utterly useless._

They sat in heavy silence, the cracks of woods splintering in fire breaking the quiet every soften, and the light howl of the wind paving around the crevices' of Winterfell, a shell of a fort. So vulnerable. Not the strong, tall, proud figure it was.

Much like Brienne was right now. _A shell of herself. _

The very moment he chose meticulous words to break the silence, a knock at the door, much to his dismay, beat him to it. He gritted his jaw, frustrated that the spell was yanked away. Brienne rose quickly, as if burnt by wildfire, wiping at tear streaks he hadn't noticed ran down her face. She glanced quickly at him, an unnervingly unreadable expression on her face. Her walls were back up once again.

"Come in" she declared.

In walked the leader of the Unsullied – _or what was left of it. _A severe man. Grey Worm.

"Apologies, Ser Brienne" he began, a thick eastern accent.

"It's quite alright" she smiled. _A fake smile_, Jaime observed. "What can I do for you?"._ So duty bound, Brienne. _Jaime almost would've rolled his eyes had he not clocked the sharp glance the soldier sent his way.

"I came for the Kingslayer. Queen Daenerys requests his presence with the small council".

Brienne's heart dropped. Jaime sighed.

Before Brienne could ask why - _she knew why, Jaime thought shrewdly_ – Jaime placed a silencing hand on her shoulder, nodded to the Unsullied soldier, and silently began following him out. He turned back and passed her a small smile. "Brienne, rest. You look tired". Baffled and left dumbfounded out of a proper reaction, he left the room before she could form an intelligent response. She stood there numbly for a few minutes. _Rest, Brienne._

She walked over to her bed, warm and inviting at first glance. The one thing her body compelled her to do. As soon as she lay down though, it was an entirely different story. Her mind could not switch off. So _now_ she wasn't tired.

_Fuck him telling me what to do. I'm not going to let this fool get himself killed by talking bullshit about honour, justifying himself to a woman who would relish his slow death. I saved his sorry ass too many times for it to happen. _

"Oh for fucks sake" she sighed, with a finality, and began to quickly dress herself in her underclothes properly, hands shaking. "Not on my bloody watch".

* * *

Ah thank you again for the incredible support on my first story! It really means a lot that you're loving and following it. I really could not stop once I started writing this chapter. I hope I did the characters justice. Idk this is definitely the way I imagine an interaction between Jaime and Arya would play out… but a girl can dream. I adore those two characters and they have a really neat tie in that I felt needed to be addressed. Bless Jaime, always trying to redeem himself. Tywin would be rolling in his grave!

Up next…. Jaime faces off the dragon queen… now that there is an after he never thought would be there AND Brienne tries her best to save her dumbass man.

Update should hopefully be within the next couple of days. Need to prioritise some of my Uni work at the moment. In the meantime… I'll be a nervous wreck waiting for next weeks episode…


End file.
